‘My office. Now.’
Gina’s head shot upright from the position where her chin had been resting on her chest. Franco was towering above her, his face like thunder and the podgy, balding American, whose business selling greetings cards had made him a millionaire but not a very interesting one, was drumming his fingers in an aggravated manner on the table. As Gina eased out of the private booth, she could hear Franco apologising profusely and offering the customer a bottle of Moet on the house.
Shit, Gina thought, I’m for it now. Momentarily she debated whether or not to make a run for it but what would be the point? Franco knew where she lived and he would have no hesitation in sending the boys round to rough her up a little. Imagine if I turned up to rehearsals tomorrow with a black eye or worse, she thought.
Four and a half weeks of burning the candle at both ends had finally caught up with Gina. She was up each morning at 7.30 to get to rehearsals for 9, getting home at 7 for a couple of hours sleep before cabbing it in to the Ostrich Club for 10.30. Even on quiet nights she wasn’t allowed to leave until half past two, which meant crawling in to bed an hour later for four hours sleep before the whole routine started over.
It was little wonder that she had dozed off as the boring American droned on and on about the global expansion of his company meaning he was constantly travelling away from his wife and family. Earlier in the evening, he had shown her a photo of his wife wearing a swimming costume, crown and a sash with the words Miss Idaho on it. Apparently, that was how they had met. As a successful local businessman, he had been one of the judges in the beauty pageant and the newly-crowned Miss Idaho, who must have been thirty years his junior, had fallen head over heels with the dashing and scintillating Mr “Cards R Us”. It clearly had nothing to do with his millions of dollars, Gina thought, as she perched on the edge of her chair waiting for Franco to finish trying to sort out the mess she had caused.
‘You’ll pay for that bottle of Moet out of your wages,’ Franco said from behind her, his voice laced with ice. ‘I don’t know what’s been wrong with you this past couple of weeks, Gina. You used to be one of my best girls but carry on like this and I’ll have to get rid of you.’
Gina sat perfectly still, not daring to even blink. What did he mean by “get rid of you”? she wondered.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
